More than Ornaments
by razzle-dazzle-me
Summary: Alanna went to the convent. She can't miraculously fight. She isn't suddenly beautiful, or the realms allpowerful mage. Corus definitely isn't peachy. And Roger?
1. Embroidery and Arrivals

Summary: Alanna went to the convent. She can't miraculously fight. She isn't suddenly beautiful, or the realms all-powerful mage. Corus definitely isn't peachy. And Roger?

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the one and only Tamora Pierce. Hail.

**More than Ornaments **

Chapter One: Embroidery and Arrivals

…**pppqqq…**

_Alanna blushed. "Thayet, you're flattering me. It was easier for me to rebel than stay and make something of myself. Why didn't I go to the convent school and prove ladies are more than ornaments that way?"_

Lioness Rampant, Chapter Four, pg. 136

…**pppqqq…**

Alanna stared at the lap of her elegant silk gown, looking frantically for the needle. Where could it have gone? She bit her lip, taking a quick glance around the room to see if anyone had noticed. As quietly as she could, Alanna lifted her embroidery -a flowery handkerchief- and leaned forward in the straight-backed chair, searching the ground to no avail.

'Trebond! What in the mothers name are you doing now?'

Alanna slowly straightened upright, trying (and failing) to regain her steady composure. 'Yes, Sister?'

Sister Martha glared down at the sixteen year old, easily the worst sewer she had ever met. 'Is something the matter, or does the floor suddenly hold more interest to you then your rather _inadequate_ needlework?'

Alanna grinned. Most ladies have a smile; a charming, warm, inviting smile. But Alanna? She was a grinner.

'Sorry Sister.' Alanna bowed her head, fixing a look of concentration back to her face. She picked at a loose thread with her manicured thumb, waiting for Sister Marthas' attention to be drawn elsewhere.

When she felt the Daughters eyes leave her Alanna looked up, sharing a knowing glance with her friend Francesca of Nond. As Martha cast her a last grudging frown before strolling to a group of struggling first-years, Franci tossed Alanna her small supply in a felt wrap. The older girls around them giggled behind a hand, or rolled their eyes. Dani, a plump, simple girl with frizzy brown hair fought to turn her snort into a cough.

It had been difficult for Alanna to settle in when she had first arrived at the convent five years ago. But settle in (and settle down) she had, and the future ladies of Tortall embraced the petit redhead in open arms. Alanna was one of them.

With the Daughter leaving them, the older convent-girls drifted back to their faint chattering. Lady Cythera could hardly sit still in all her excitement- tomorrow they would be leaving to start a new life at the palace.

Yet Alanna couldn't help feeling her stomach sink. She half grinned at the thought- how ironic it was that at eleven years old she had dreaded coming here more than anything, and now she feared leaving. Could she ever be happy?

She couldn't deny that she would be pleased to see Thom, however distant and evasive her twin had become.

Gone were the days where Tortall was held in peaceful rein. Alanna watched behind lowered lashes as her friends eyes frequently drifted to the large windows before them, overlooking the convents gardens; in particular the memorial section set in place right after the late King Roald had passed away the year before, joining his beloved wife in the realms of the Dead.

Prince Jonathan of Conte was officially the heir to Tortalls' throne. Still, a year had passed and his coronation was yet to take place. Commoners protested daily against the young prince's rights to rein, and the nobles divided and argued in fear of a civil war. Duke Roger of Conte travelled through the country drawing in the people's hopes, love, respect and making promises they were too ignorant to realise he would not keep.

There would be war soon, it could not be helped.

Tortall would be divided, torn and ripped apart.

Soon she would have to make a choice.

'And what if,' Alanna thought, not daring to voice her turmoil. 'I choose wrongly?'

And throughout the night Alanna could think of little else. She shut her eyes tight, cursing softly and begging sleep to take her away. But it was no use; she couldn't let the dread brooding in her stomach leave, just as she couldn't bring herself to rest for the third night running. Why was it she felt this way? Thom's letters had become so vague- what was really happening at the palace?

…pppqqq…

Early the next morning Alanna woke to thunder crashing through the sky. Rain plummeted down on the old castle's roof and lightning flashed bright in the grey clouds.

Slowly Alanna pulled herself out of bed, her eyes throbbing from lack of sleep. Her feet hit the cold stone floor, sending icy jolts up her legs and Alanna jumped back under the covers.

Before long her maid Elizabeth came in to help her dress. Alanna moaned, but left the warmth of her bed and proceeded to be picked and prodded back into shape.

She thought longingly of the desert she had never visited, and hot summer days that rarely shined in that part of the country.

Elizabeth coughed and Alanna was brought back from her reverie. She wore a warm black frock -it was a week long journey- and her hair was piled in a simple knot at the back of her head.

Elizabeth curtsied. 'You are ready, my lady.'

Alanna frowned. 'Am I?'

…pppqqq…

Prince Jonathan of Conte watched the new ladies descend from the carriages, perched in a window seat above the court-yard. Distantly he could hear the rain continuing to beat down on the capital as it had the past few days. Rain, in moderation, was good. However, like so many other things in life, too much could be disastrous.

He sighed at this thought, his eyes stuck on a small woman with bright red hair. He smiled, despite himself. Was this Thom's sister? He'd only been talking of seeing her again all week. The prince rolled his eyes at his cousins' obnoxious squire.

Normally, before his parents had died, Jonathan would be among the first to greet and meet the ladies. Those days seemed a life time ago.

He thought he heard a noise, and turned to look over his shoulder. A wet black cat jumped up into his lap.

The prince smiled. 'Hello Faithful.'

The cat licked his hand in reply, settling himself on Jonathan's lap. Still the prince continued to frown upon the small room- a private library only he had access too.

When was it he had become so wary? A flash of anger passed through his mind. _When the ladies began to stay away, friends left me alone and my council started lying? When commoners marched in protest, voicing their worries, choices and opinions. Or when Roger went behind my back, talking, bribing and making hidden connections?_

Faithful would always warn him of any immediate danger anyhow, as he had done in the past. Jonathan looked down at the cat, stroking his soggy fur. Slowly Faithful began to purr and the Prince let his worries fade. For the time being.

…pppqqq…

Arrabelle groaned loudly as the heavy downpour of rain crashed onto the roof. 'It just had to rain again _today_ of all days.' She flew her hands in the air to emphasis her point. 'I sit -bored out of my mind- for a week, praying to every God imaginable for good weather, yet _still_ it continues.'

'Don't moan, Arrabelle.' Alanna drew pictures on the foggy window pane. 'There's nothing anyone can do about it.'

'I'm sure no-one will be expecting us to walk outdoors in these conditions,' the final member of the carriage, Sophia spoke up. 'I wish you would apply even a little common sense to your rambling's, for the kind of weather hardly makes a difference to our arrival. It itches at my nerves so.'

Alanna stole a glance at Arrabelle's reaction to this- her pretty face was contorted in the task of unravelling what Sophia had said. Alanna turned back to her window drawings. _Thank the Gods we are nearly there, _she thought._ If I had to put up with one more day of their bickering I swear I really would go insane._

The carriage slowed down, allowing the girls maids to board from their separate wagon. Alanna sat, rather subdued in her own thoughts while her maid, Elizabeth, applied touch ups to her face pant, fixed her hair in an eloquent nest of ringlets and smoothed the delicate white-blue gown Alanna was wearing.

Sophia was glaring at her maid, insisting she be left alone. There was nothing much that could be done to improve her long hooked nose and slick, frumpy hair. The high, frilly neckline of her hideous gown rubbed against her chin as she sat, hunched over her book with her thick glasses slipping down her nose. Arrabelle was plump and pretty in a soft pink gown, her white-blonde hair arranged to fan out behind her.

The carriage turned up a hill, leaving the near deserted market streets to enter into the temple district. Ten short minutes flew by, while the girls tried their best to focus on their composure, and clear their hurdling nerves. At last the carriage came to a stop.

The elegant mahogany door on Sophia's side snapped open, and a hand emerged to help the first lady descend. Alanna was second to leave, taking another offered arm, she quickly hopped down the steps where the 'arms owner', holding a dainty umbrella above their heads, escorted her to a covered courtyard.

Alanna smiled up at the big chestnut haired man, still holding her arm. 'Nice day for it,' she said dryly, eying the rain.

He laughed, smiling at her. 'Your Alanna, right?'

They entered into a large corridor, expanding out in hundreds of halls. Alanna stopped for a moment, watching her friends be escorted in different directions to their new rooms.

She looked up at his smiling face. 'Yes. How did you know?'

He continued to lead her up into the castle, where Alanna was lost in seconds.

'I'm Gary,' he smiled at her again. 'That is- Sir Gareth the younger of Naxen. But I prefer Gary.'

Alanna returned the grin. 'You're my brothers Knight Master.'

'Yes,' they began to climb a staircase. 'People may have told you before that you look alike,' he huffed. 'I'm taking you to him now- not far to go. He can show you to your rooms later.'

'Thankyou.'

'No problem,' they came to a stop at last, facing a large oak door. 'Thom's a friend of mine.'

Alanna brought her hands to her hair, searching for any runaway strands. 'I'm glad of it.'

Gary reached deep into his breeches pocket, looking for his key. In times before Gary hadn't even bothered to lock his doors. But times had changed, and now he did.

…**pppqqq…**

A/N: I'll be completely honest with you: I write for reviews. Sure, I like writing but I wouldn't bother if I knew no-one would be reading it. So, please review! The more you do, the faster I'll post :-)

x0x0x0x

Razz.


	2. Long Awaited Reunions

Summary: Alanna went to the convent. She can't miraculously fight. She isn't suddenly beautiful, or the realms all-powerful mage. Corus definitely isn't peachy. And Roger?

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the one and only Tamora Pierce. Hail.

**More than Ornaments **

Chapter Two: Long Awaited Reunions

…**pppqqq…**

_'Thankyou.'_

_'No problem,' they came to a stop at last, facing a large oak door. 'Thom's a friend of mine.'_

_Alanna brought her hands to her hair, searching for any runaway strands. 'I'm glad of it.' _

_Gary reached deep into his breeches pocket, looking for his key. In times before Gary hadn't even bothered to lock his doors. But times had changed, and now he did._

…**pppqqq…**

Thom had felt his sister's presence drawing nearer for the past two days. A wave of excitement he was seldom accustomed to washed over him and Thom stood back, admiring his handiwork.

It was well known across their small group of friends that Gary and Thom's shared suite was continuously in a state of chaos and mess. It was the last option to gather in after a night out, and the young men seldom visited their two friends in the rooms.

But Thom had spent all morning cleaning the main lounge, and so long as his sister didn't venture to any other parts, she should find the room lovely.

At last happy with his efforts, Thom collapsed onto the couch.

The sound of voices outside the door, seconds later, had Thom jumping up once again. He bound his way onward, distantly making out Gary's cursing. Had Gary lost his keys _again? _Thom moaned at the thought of purchasing more from the old locksmith, the man already thought the pair completely inept.

Clasping his hand firmly on the knob, Thom swung the door open.

Gary moved aside scowling, still rummaging through his pockets.

They stared at each other a moment, counting the differences since they had last been together, at their fathers funeral two years before.

Thom was taller, more toned and his hair was longer. His amethyst eyes blazed at her with badly contained glee.

He grinned.

She grinned back.

…pppqqq…

Gary left far to early to go to the welcoming ball room yet, but he couldn't stand to be in the same room as his insufferable, gloating, far-too-ecstatic squire. Alanna had left some hour ago, and Thom had become completely transformed since.

That's what you get for taking a friend on as Squire. Thom never listened to what he said. Thinking of friends, as Gary wondered aimlessly around the castle, brought him to the royal suite and Jonathan's door.

The prince saw the moaning slouch of his cousins shoulders, and considered for a moment refusing to let him in. But that thought was abandoned as Gary pushed past him without a glance, slumping his way to his usual spot in the armchair by the fire.

'What's up?' Jonathan was never one to draw something out, as Gary loved to. Jon strode back to his desk where he had been sitting, trying to bring his concentration back to the stack of tax-reports. But with Gary's gossiping presence, that now seemed quite unlikely.

'Why couldn't _I_ have got a sister?' Gary whined, pouring himself a glass of whisky.

Jonathan rolled his eyes. 'Not jealous, are we?'

Gary snorted. 'You haven't seen her.'

Jon smiled, feeling for a moment like his old self. 'What does she look like?'

'Oh,' Gary smiled, brightening at the thought. 'She's amazing. I've never met anyone like her. She actually looks a lot like Thom, but in a completely feminine way. You'd really like her.'

'She looks like Thom? I'm in love already.'

Gary doubled over in laughter. 'And Thom would just _luurve_ that! I don't think he'll let any male within a ten metre radius of his precious sister.'

'Slightly over-protective?'

'Slightly insane.'

'That sounds slightly like Thom.'

…pppqqq…

Alanna arrived at the ballroom with Francesca, and was quickly introduced to her friends brother Francis. The Nonds' chattered endlessly and Alanna soon found herself looking for Thom.

She jumped when Gary pulled her arm from behind, dragging her out onto a side balcony. He laughed as she stumbled on her high shoes. 'I'd like to introduce you to someone.'

'Who?'

'It's a surprise.'

Alanna _was_ surprised to see such a handsome man sitting alone. He turned to look at her, his coal-black hair dancing in the breeze. At last the rain had stopped.

Gary beamed. 'Jon, this is Lady Alanna. Alanna, Prince Jonathan.'

Alanna curtsied. 'Your majesty.'

He smiled slowly, showing her perfect white teeth. 'It's a pleasure to meet you, my Lady.'

She looked through the french doors for Thom to come to her rescue, but he was busy serving drinks as the squires were supposed to. Alanna's eyes widened as she saw just who her brother was 'chatting' to.

Jonathan turned, following her gaze. 'You know Delia of Eldorne?'

Alanna bit her lip, fighting to keep her anger under control. 'Yes, I do.'

The prince laughed. 'And you don't like her?'

'No, I don't.'

He raised his wine glass in a toast. 'I could drink to that.'

Gary placed another glass in her hand. Alanna grinned. 'I could drink to anything tonight.'

…pppqqq…

Sacherall and Douglass stopped in the doorway with their empty jugs, examining the latest arrivals.

Douglass fluttered his lashes. 'I'm completely in love with Lady Cythera.'

Sacherall sighed in agreement. 'Have you seen the redhead Gary was clinging to?'

'Oh yes, she looks quite interesting. Hmm?'

Thom stopped, glaring at his friends. They continued their observations unaware, till Thom interrupted. 'What was that?'

Douglass laughed, still oblivious. 'The redhead! Do you think Gary will introduce me?'

Thom shuddered at the thought. 'No.'

Sacherall frowned, turning from one twin to the next. 'Are you related to her?'

Thom raised an eyebrow.

Douglass hadn't quite caught on. 'Will _you_ introduce me then?'

He shuddered a second time. 'Definitely not.'

…pppqqq…

Alanna eyed the bench in annoyance, the raindrops shining in the moonlight. She dare not sit down on it.

'Are you tired?' Jonathan stopped, letting go of her arm.

'No,' Alanna looked up at the stars, not wanting to meet his frightening sapphire eyes. What was frightening about them? Alanna shivered. 'Would you mind if I took my shoes off? My feet are killing me.'

He laughed. 'Sure.' Jonathan shook his jacket off his shoulders, slinging it over her back.

'Thanks.' She smiled, kicking off the offending shoes. Her feet touched the wet grass, soaking her stockings. 'It's beautiful here.'

She looked back up at the ballroom from the garden where they stood, having descended from the balcony.

'Yes,' Jonathan sighed, taking her arm in his again. 'It is.'

Their eyes met. In the distance a loud bell sounded. All noise from the party stopped. 'What was that?' Alanna turned away from him, back to the palace.

Jonathan groaned softly. 'Oh no.'

'What is it?' Her stomach dropped.

He swallowed, closing his eyes tight. 'Roger's back.'

…**pppqqq…**

A/N: Hi :-) Thanks for reading! I'd just like to explain a few things before I let you review cough (hint, hint)…

Firstly, with the whole sweating sickness thing:

Lets just say Roger did some brainstorming, hauling out the butchers paper and texta's. Instead of ending Jon with the fever, he decided to kill off the Queen first. The King followed, not being able to live without his wife and Jon is now the only one remaining. Roger's attempts at finally getting rid of Jon is basically the structure for this story.

Secondly with the whole Thom-is-not-the-arrogant-prick-he's-supposed-to-be thing:

I really did consider making him awful. Honestly, I did. But I like happy stories and I didn't want him to make Alanna's life at the palace an embarrassment, furthermore causing her misery. I liked the idea of writing Gary as his knight master because I think they have lots in common, for example they're both sarcastic and sardonic, but lovable all the same. Whether or not this would make them clash and hate each other, I'm not sure. I really do hope that if Thom had of gone to the palace, he might have turned into a nicer person. What more can I say? He sucks me right in.

Third, and lastly, the whole 'pairing' thing:

Yes, this is a romance. I adore romances. Therefore, obviously it will have a pairing. Does this chapter give you some ideas? I love the J/A's, but only G/A's can live on in the end. Unusual pairings can be lots of fun too. That said, you'll just have to wait and see, but please do tell me who you'd like.

x0x0x0x

Razz.


	3. A Lighter Outlook

Summary: Alanna went to the convent. She can't miraculously fight. She isn't suddenly beautiful, or the realms most powerful mage. Corus definitely isn't peachy. And Roger?

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the one and only Tamora Pierce. Hail.

**More than Ornaments **

Chapter Three: A Lighter Outlook

…**pppqqq…**

Jonathan and Alanna hurried back up to the ballroom, just as the nobles began to depart. Or rather, _flee._

Alanna was confused. Why were they leaving? She voiced this to Jonathan, who was franticly searching the room.

He frowned. 'Why wouldn't they? You would have to be crazy to stay.' He took her arm again and lead her to where Francesca and Francis were standing. Jonathan nodded to Francis, whose eyes showed all too well their knowing.

The blonde looked at Alanna. 'You have to get out of here.' He pushed his sister towards her. 'Both of you.'

'Why?' Francesca shook her head, her eyebrows raised.

'Why are people leaving?' Alanna looked over her shoulder at the diminishing crowd. 'I don't understand.'

Gary came up behind them, pulling on Alanna's arm for the second time that night.

It was Francis who answered them, after a sharp look at Jonathan. 'People are scared. They don't want to show allegiance to Jonathan by attending a party with him.' He threw a sour look at exit.

Gary tugged Alanna's arm again. 'We have to go.' His glanced briefly at Jonathan, surprised the prince was still there. 'All of us.'

'Why should we?' Alanna met Gary's muddy-brown eyes, her voice full of annoyance. 'If people continue to act like this, then he's won already. He wants everyone to go, to be in fear and alone. Why should his Majesty obey a Duke?' She raised an eyebrow at Jonathan.

He shook his head. 'You don't understand. I can't afford to face him right now, not when there are too few willing to stand by my side.'

'You have to have faith in your people first. Show them courage, let them know you're fighting and then, maybe they'll have faith in you.'

The prince smiled at her, but it did not show in his eyes like it should have. 'You have no idea how much I'd give to believe that.'

Francesca laughed uneasily. 'Believe it then.'

Alanna beamed at her friend. 'You can't let anyone walk all over you like this, in present circumstances least of all your cousin.'

An older, taller man who looked suspiciously like Gary tapped Jonathan on the shoulder. 'Your Majesty, may I suggest you depart. Now.'

Jonathan hesitated. 'What for?' He gave his father's best friend an appeasing look. 'To retire for the night, or hurry to greet my dearest cousin?'

Sir Gareth the elder looked around the room, where very few people still stood. 'To retire, of course.'

'No.' Jonathan looked back at Alanna. 'I don't think I will.'

…pppqqq…

It was nothing compared to the party a half-hour ago, but the remaining Tortallan nobility did their best.

An elderly lady played lightly on the piano, but the twenty or so nobles gathered in small groups, chattering half heartedly. No-one was game enough to dance.

Would the Duke even show up?

Alanna sat in a corner table with Thom, arguing insistently about his relationship with Lady Delia.

'I hate her,' Alanna pressed, trying hard to quieten her voice.

A shaggy old man chortled into his brandy next to them.

Thom was looking thoroughly annoyed. 'She says she doesn't even remember you.'

'What?'

The shaggy man snorted and Alanna threw him a menacing look.

'She's lying. There is no way, even considering how stupid Delia is, that she has no memory of me.'

'That sounds slightly arrogant, sister dear.'

'Arrogant?' Alanna was furious now. 'She was awful to me. Consistently.'

Thom smiled. 'Obviously it didn't mean that much to her. You take everything far too seriously.'

'And where is your lovely lady now?'

Thom's face reddened slightly. 'She decided to leave.'

Alanna couldn't help but smirk. 'Oh, really? That's a shame.'

The man next to them laughed again, and Alanna could take it no longer.

She swung right around on her seat. 'Do you mind?'

Thom groaned, burying his hands in his face. 'See what I mean? You completely over-react with everything. It's not like Delia and I are serious anyway…'

The man bowed his head to her, talking over her brother. 'I'm Sir Myles of Olau.'

Alanna liked the man instantly, and thought it was definitely time for a change in the discussion, as it was beginning to appear that she might loose. 'Lady Alanna of Trebond.'

'It's a pleasure to meet you.' Sir Myles raised his glass to her, and drank deeply.

She couldn't help but smile. He was harmless enough, and certainly drunk enough anyway.

'And you.' She picked up her wine glass, tilting it to him in turn.

'Myles teaches the pages.' Thom looked around, grinning at the knight. 'His was my favourite subject.'

Myles laughed. 'And so it should be!'

'Too right.' Alanna looked up to see Gary had joined them. He sat himself next to Alanna, ignoring the dirty look Thom threw him.

'This is the most dull party I've ever been to.' Gary reached forward to the jug, filling another glass. 'And it's all thanks to you.' His voice was serious, but Alanna could see the laughter in his eyes.

'Is it really?' She looked at him in mock-offence. 'You can leave any time Sir Gareth. No one will miss you.'

Gary snorted. 'Is that so?'

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing shoulders with Alanna for a short moment. Thom looked ready to kill.

The squire growled. 'It's nearing midnight now. If his Grace doesn't show up by then we can go.'

Gary began to reply, but cut himself short when all sound shut off around them.

Alanna tried to stand, to get a better look at the doorway, but Thom and Gary pulled her down again.

'Don't draw attention to yourself,' Thom whispered through gritted teeth in her ear. She was about to bite back an angry reply when Gary silenced her with one word.

'Please.'

She didn't have to wait long to get a better look at Duke Roger of Conte anyway.

He glided into the room in exquisite dark blue-black velvet, two sneering men flanking his sides. Alanna inwardly cringed. The man simply radiated importance, but if he'd wanted a warm welcome home he'd come to the wrong room.

Jonathan was the only one to voice a greeting, as sarcastic as his was.

'Roger, it's a _pleasure_ to have you back among us.'

Roger showed the prince a frighteningly innocent smile. The man would not be intimidated. 'As it is a pleasure to be back.'

He made a show of glancing slowly around the room. 'Why so few people? I had heard there was a ball.'

It was the older Knight of Naxen who answered. 'It is quite late, Roger. Many have long since gone to bed.'

'How kind of you to wait up for me.'

'Oh, don't worry yourself.' Jonathan's eyes met Alanna's for the briefest of seconds. 'We were only enjoying such a fine break in the weather.'

Roger smirked, but didn't bother with another reply.

Duke Baird covered a wide yawn. 'If you'll all excuse me,' the Chief Healer smiled lightly. 'I don't think I feel like chatting any more. There really seems to be nothing more to say.'

One by one the nobles left, showing no signs of fear to the Duke so many usually fled from. He stood still, watching them all depart, burning their images into his memory. They would pay.

It was certainly not what Roger had been expecting. His Grace had been away for three months, forcing support for himself along the coast line. He had left Corus weak, frightened and in tatters.

But tonight it had regrown. The nobles showed a brighter strength of unity and a group had purposely stood to defy him.

Roger sneered. Another week, they wouldn't have a clue what hit them.

…**pppqqq…**

A/N: Hi there! Are you liking? Hating? Confused? Pissed off? Anything else?

Only one way to let me know…

Thanks so much to all those people who reviewed! You guys are awesome.


	4. The King of Thieves

Summary: Alanna went to the convent. She can't miraculously fight. She isn't suddenly beautiful, or the realms most powerful mage. Corus definitely isn't peachy. And Roger?

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the one and only Tamora Pierce. Hail.

**More than Ornaments **

Chapter Four: The King of Thieves

…**pppqqq…**

Bright sunlight ran in through the windows, waking Alanna late in the morning. She stretched out contently, relinquishing in the first time of her life that she had control as to when to rise.

The feeling diminished slowly as her stomach grumbled and she longed for a big, hot breakfast.

As if reading her thoughts a knock sounded on her door and Francesca entered, fully dressed and ready to face the day. She took a long, pitying look at her friend curled up in the blankets and rolled her eyes.

'Are you hungry?'

'Ravishing.'

Franci laughed, pulling the blankets away. 'Get dressed and we can find you something in the city. It's Market Day!'

…pppqqq…

The King of Thieves looked out onto the street, peaceful to be at last in solitude. It was rare these days for his men to let him be- much less dangerous to travel in groups, they would advise.

Below him the streets were bubbling and crowded around the market, peasants and nobles alike rummaging through goods and food spread about. He spotted a stable boy of his try a hand at the pick-pocket career. A wise choice, he mused to himself.

George Cooper was a young man still, but lately he had felt old. _Old_, George groaned rubbing his neck, _and tired_.

Every day more common folk would arrive into the capital, abandoning their farms and livestock in search of a better, easier life. And with every new arrival Georges' work, and rule got harder.

Outland thieves would not share and obey to his rein. The higher bred common people of merchants and company holders constantly sought to take his throne as the Rouge.

Only a year ago, when Duke Roger had first become a serious threat to the Prince, George knew either side would benefit with the underground people's support. The armies (made up of these common folk) would split, and both Roger and Jonathan couldn't wish for the smaller half.

The lower, underground people of Tortall needed a side to take, and that meant George needed to pick one.

As he turned to go, a red flicker caught his eye outside. He peered at the two young nobles below, laughing gaily at a pair of orange mittens. Deep in his belly, the magic that bound the Rouge's Sight swelled, filling him with a need and yearning.

As the feeling relaxed George cast a doubtful glance to the heavens, and sent a small prayer to the Gods that had made him a Seer.

_I hope you know what your doing._

Silently, he made his way down into the market.

…pppqqq…

Alanna looked down at the jewellery box, far too ornate and ridiculously overpriced. Francesca tugged on her arm, bored of this stall already.

'Hurry up!' She insisted, 'there's a dress shop over there and midwinter's not far away.'

'There is so much of everything!' Alanna exclaimed. 'I've never been anywhere so expanse.'

'Huh!' Francesca pulled her friend away, the shop keeper glaring after them. 'You haven't even been to Port Caynn yet. Wait until you go there.'

'And when,' Alanna moaned, 'will _I_ ever get to go anywhere?'

Franci grinned wickedly. 'Why not ask young Gareth to take you?'

Alanna snorted, stopping to look at a pastry. 'I don't think so…'

'And why not? You can't deny he's handsome.'

'And is that all you're after? As long as he's handsome, that's all that counts?'

'Ugh.' Franci tugged Alanna's arm again, 'your just impossible sometimes.'

'I know…'

A large hand tapped her on the shoulder. Startled, Alanna looked up into the hazel eyes of a man she did not know. He had a big nose, a snappy smile and short brown hair, cut like a commoners. Yet Alanna felt something powerful about him, something royal almost.

'Allow me to introduce myself, my Ladies.' The man bowed. 'I'm George Cooper, of the lower city. Will you take a cool drink with me? As my guests, of course.'

Alanna and Francesca eyed each other warily. Was this man a thief? Common sense, and convent training told them both immediately to not accept. Alanna grinned, with a good feeling about their first adventure, and felt she ought to answer before Franci declined.

'Thankyou,' Alanna said quickly. 'We accept.'

George led the pair through the bulging crowd and sunshine into a darker area they had passed earlier, and an inn called the Dancing Dove. An elderly man who greeted them spoke to George like an old friend, and hurried to bring ale and lemonade to a remote table.

'You shouldn't be surprised at my lookin' you up,' he told them, staring straight at Alanna. 'Truth to tell I like your looks.'

'That's quite impolite, Cooper,' Alanna raised an eyebrow at him.

George laughed. 'It's your eyes. We don't see many with eyes like yours.'

'My brother has eyes just the same,' Alanna stared back,' and he's lived in the city these past five years.'

'Well,' George looked slightly taken aback, 'I haven't had the pleasure of meeting him, I do apologise.'

'What is it you do, exactly?' Francesca ask, fixing him a sceptical look.

George winked at her. 'I- buy, and I sell.'

'You're a thief,' Francesca laughed lightly.

''Thief' isn't such a nice word, my lady.'

'And how do we know you're a nice person?' Alanna asked, sipping from her glass.

'You've still got your purse,' George smiled crookedly, 'or you had better.'

'We do,' Francesca answered. 'But are you to say you only wished to speak with us because Alanna here has strange eyes?'

George gave them both a twisted smile. 'I have the gift, and it made me curious to meet you, Alanna. It's not good to ignore the Gift that the Gods give to you.'

'No,' Alanna said, 'its not.'

Francesca swept here eyes around the dank room and made an educated guess. 'You're the Rouge, aren't you George?'

George nodded. 'That I am. And you're a sharp lass for guessin.''

Franci brushed the compliment away. 'I too have a brother here, and he has told me some crazy stories.'

'Most of which are grand, I'm sure.' George paused a moment, looking again to Alanna. 'It's a sorry time to be around at the moment, with civil war blossoming before our eyes.' He grinned, breaking the sombre mood, 'I can be a good friend to those who keep faith with me.'

'And faith,' Alanna grinned back, 'is becoming rather hard to come by.'

George laughed. 'You'll find me here most of the time, if ever need be.'

Alanna rose. 'Till then, Cooper.'

'Please, call me George.'

Alanna held her and out, and they shook on it. 'If you call me Alanna.'

Franci sighed, holding out her and too. 'Francesca, at your service.'

George watched them go, smiling.

…**pppqqq…**

A/N: Hey! I'm so stoked by all the feedback- you guys rock!


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